


Both of Us

by JaneAire



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor's potty mouth, F/M, First person reader, Requested, Written as a writing sprint, brief nudity, mentions of sex and alcohol, not proof read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: Reader and Connor use each other to get back at their parents. Hijinks ensue.





	Both of Us

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I gasped for the tenth time, watching Connor with wide eyes as he pulled more items out of the drug store plastic bag. Glaring at me with harsh slate eyes, Connor removed the last of the items, setting them up in a neat row across his quilted bedspread.

“You wanna get back at your parents or not?” He asked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. I trusted Connor, but something about sitting cross legged on his bed with a pile of unmentionables between us made me sicker than it should’ve. 

“I mean–we’re gonna be in a lot of trouble,” I grumbled. He grinned. 

“Then maybe they’ll start paying you some decent attention, yeah? The both of us.” 

“Connor–” 

“Everyone freaks out the second there’s any chance of their daughter getting pregnant. My dad is gonna blow his top,” he sighed, grinning wickedly at the thought. Rolling my eyes, I reached out tentatively to run my finger across the box between us. 

“Why condoms then?” 

He shrugged. “Makes them think we’re having sex–and maybe then we can avoid the talk. And hey, I might actually need these at some point, Miss Skeptic,” he growled, sticking his tongue out, making me giggle. 

“Okay, so, plan?” I asked, looking warily between him and the lineup of illegal things going on between us. 

His lithe fingers reached between us, nimbly selecting a hazy brown bottle and offering it to  me. 

“You’re gonna want a swig of this,” he said, popping the cap on what appeared to be beer, taking a quick sip–giving me a disgusted expression, but swallowed regardless–and handed it back to me. 

“Can’t we just dump it in a plant?” I grumbled softly, eyeing the liquid inside. It was warm in my palm, already making me queasy. 

“Don’t be a pussy,” he chuckled, reaching out to slap my knee, sending me jumping and the amber liquid slushed out across the back of my hand. 

“Careful!” He giggled again, reaching out to grab my wrist with one hand, his cold rings stinging my flushed skin, his other hand reaching with the cuff of his hoodie to mop up the spill. Gazing with fond eyes, he gifted me a crooked smile. “Someone’s jumpy.” 

“I’m nervous,” I mumbled. His smile doubled, revealing his white, crooked canine teeth, making him look simultaneously softer but confident. He hadn’t yet released my wrist, the sleeve of his hoodie still stroking across the back of my hand. 

“We aren’t actually gonna do it,” he whispered, like it was a secret. Snorting, I yanked my hand away, doing my best to keep the blush from my cheeks. 

“Don’t flatter yourself–I meant I’m nervous about getting trouble,” it was a half truth, but I doubt he’d call me out on it. 

He shoved the bottle further against my chest, nodding toward it. “Just drink it.”

Two beers later, things were starting to get fuzzy. I’d never drank before, and I’d only meant to drink enough to make it _look_ like we’d been drinking, but then Connor…. 

Connor was pacing the floor, shaking his hands nervously. He’d long since shed his hoodie, stalking the floor now in a grey tank top with his skinny jeans riding dangerous low on his hips–he was holding his liquor well, but it didn’t stop him from anxiously checking the window every few minutes. 

“They’re gonna be here any minute,” he cursed under his breath, scratching at the back of his head, causing the brunette curls to fluff out violently. “What’s the plan?”

I shrugged, honestly half hoping he’d just let them catch us drinking. “You’re seriously gonna try to make it look like we’re having sex as they pull in the driveway? What’s the count of that–sixty seconds? They aren’t gonna buy it, Con.” 

“You’re pessimistic when you’re drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk.” 

“Just pessimistic?” 

“Realistic,” I argued, pulling my shirt over my head, watching Connor splutter hopelessly, eyes wide and face red as he fell against his closet door. 

“What the fuck, dude!” 

“People don’t have sex with their clothes on, Connor,” I reminded, laying against the blue quilt, letting my arms fall above my head. More than anything I was tired, too warm, kind of ready for another drink. 

“Dude,” Connor breathed from out of my line of sight. “You’re shirtless on my bed. Holy shit. Jared is gonna lose his shit oh my God–” 

“Shut up,” I growled, reaching down gingerly to make sure my bra was still in place. “And lose your’s too if you wanna make your parents actually buy this.” 

“Holy shit,” Connor whispered again, his voice accompanied by the loud ruffle of clothing being thrown idly across the room. 

The bed squawked beneath me, shaking slightly as Connor joined me, suddenly hovering over me on his elbows, his dark hair forming a curtain around my face, eclipsing my view of the room. 

Connor was smiling brightly, his cheeks a hazy pink under his constellation of silver freckles, and his eyes squinting with the effort from the grin. 

“This good?” He asked softly, adjusting so that his bony knees, still clad in his faded black skinny jeans, were boxing in my hips. I giggled, nodding slightly, feeling warmer than before. 

“Better,” I agreed, despite the warning flares going off in the back of my mind. Connor was a friend, Connor was cute, I argued with myself. There was no harm in a little flirting. 

“I think,” he said lowly, leaning down with heavy eyes so that his chapped lips brushed against my cheek, his curls teasing against my temple, “You’re trying to seduce me.” 

I snorted, rolling my eyes. I reached up to grab his bare forearms playfully, giving them a squeeze and feeling Connor’s bare stomach twitch above my own. “Yeah? Is it working?”

I felt him smile before I saw it. “You tell me.” 

Everything short circuited as Connor surged forward, sealing his lips to mine so forcefully I felt my skull slam against the mattress, his cheeks caving slightly as he moved against me, his hands coming up to cup my neck, thumbs tracing soft patterns across my cheek bones. 

_Kiss him back, stupid_ , I grunted to myself, feeling Connor’s kiss subside into something softer, slower, and my wide eyed glare revealed his focused, furrowed expression as he concentrated perhaps too hard on this kiss itself, his lips sealing lightly before pulling away too quick and returning just as fast. 

“That believable enough?” He whispered softly, moving his head so that he could press a feather kiss along my jaw, allowing me to gasp for air behind his long trail of hair. 

“Yeah,” I sighed, unable to stop an embarrassing giggle from bubbling out, earning an elbow to my side. 

“Be nice, I’m trying here,” he grumbled, suddenly ceasing his motions and going limp above me, pressing his warm face into the crook of my neck. 

“Oscar given,” I promised, a half guilty and half endeared at his embarrassment, reaching up to tangle my hands in his hair, smoothing it lightly. “You wanna take a break, try that again when your parents pull in?” I mumbled against his hair, pressing a kiss there, suddenly aware of the fact Connor’s warmth was laying between my legs, like a too-warm blanket, almost uncomfortable but worth it. 

“Yeah,” he agreed drowsy, pressing a feather against my clavicle, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burrowing tighter into my neck. I sighed, relieved that we’d have a moment for my heart to settle down. 

“Hey,” Connor whispered softly, nudging the inside of my thigh with his knee. 

“Yeah?” I sighed, turning so that I could hear him a bit better from where his words were muffled against my neck.

“Thanks again for agreeing to do this,” he mumbled, shifting. “I know we aren’t super close or anything–”

“I like hanging out with you, Connor,” I reminded, letting my hand drop to trail a pattern against his spine, feeling him sigh in comfort against me. “We are friends, you know.” 

“Still,” he said. “I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me.” 

“Anytime,” I said truthfully, feeling another feather kiss against my clavicle. “Now stay vigilant, yeah? We don’t wanna miss your parents.” 

—-

“This isn’t right–we should call that girl’s parents!” 

“Sshhh!” Cynthia urged again, dragging another quilt over the kids in the bed, unable to stop another smile from coming to her lips. Connor and the girl were tangled together, snoring lightly, Connor’s face pressed lightly against her chest and the girls hands resting lightly across his bare back. “Let them sleep, Larry.” 

“The last thing Connor needs is to be a teen father!” 

Cynthia pointed to the box on the bedside table. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. Their pants are on, dear.” 

Larry rolled his eyes. “And you’re okay with the beer?” 

“We’ll have a talk about that,” Cynthia promised, but turned back to glance at the couple. “Look at his face, Larry, when he’s sleeping. He looks so calm. He almost looks happy.” 

Larry was silent, leaning against the door and watching the two of them. “I suppose it’s good to know he’s got a friend.” 

“More than a friend,” Cynthia grinned, shutting off the light and sliding the door closed. “I wonder what she likes on her pancakes.”


End file.
